Walking the Labyrinth
by LilacFree
Summary: Doctor who? Tegan Jovanka walks into the TARDIS knowing nothing of the Doctor or aliens. Lost, she wanders the corridors and begins to learn what she's got herself into. Walk a while in Tegan's high heels. This is interwoven with 'Logopolis'.
1. Releasing

Walking the Labyrinth

A/N: References in the quotes are to the spiritual aspects of walking a labyrinth, in both the pattern and mythological senses.

* * *

**'Your life is a sacred journey. And it is about change, growth, discovery, movement, transformation, continuously expanding your vision of what is possible, stretching your soul, learning to see clearly and deeply, listening to your intuition, taking courageous challenges at every step along the way. You are on the path... exactly where you are meant to be right now...'**

**– Caroline Adams, from **

1: Releasing (Purgation)

**A releasing, a letting go of the details of your life. This is the act of shedding thoughts and distractions. /b I**

**– Caroline Adams, ibid**

England had her back: dim skies, busy motorway, and the scent of exhaust. Aunt Vanessa waited patiently by the car. But Tegan Jovanka had forgotten all about the flat she was supposed to be rolling down to the nearest garage. Before her lay the unknown, contained by an old British police box. The first step was the hardest. It took all her life to carry her over the threshold.

If the blue box was magical for being bigger on the inside than on the outside, it was mundane in its hospital style white sterility. The plain wooden hat stand and step ladder were welcome additions. They lent coziness to this alien interior.

Coziness didn't compensate her for the sudden closing of the doors. She ran to them but they offered no purchase for her fingers.

Tegan didn't really want to leave (she should). There was a door that led God knew where that no sensible person should want to go past (she did). The instrument panel wasn't labeled with anything she could understand. Her examination of it showed one control that looked vaguely like a communications device, so she tried it. Her voice mocked her ears, but there was no one there to laugh at her but herself.

(there was).

Did she hear laughter? She didn't (she did). Did she? Or was it only her imagination? The air was full of the hum of machinery, faint but ever present. In that quiet, Tegan's breaths were like storm gusts, her words like hail. The slow hard thumps of her heart tolled beneath her ribs… no (it did.) She _did_ hear a bell. She followed the sound through the door (Had there been laughter? The bell tolled for her.) She opened it and looked out into white roundel pocked corridors, featureless and forbidding in their uniformity.

She wasn't afraid! (She was.) She wouldn't let herself be. But if she left the first room, that would separate her from any trace of normality. The known world would be left behind. It was a commitment, like the commitment of a plane's tires leaving the ground. Once you were in the air, you went forward: fly or fall.

Tegan Jovanka took flight.

_Interlude: Meanwhile back on the Barnett Bypass_

_The flat tire lay abandoned in the ditch where it had rolled out from under Tegan's hand. Vanessa stared down at it. Where had Tegan gone that she hadn't taken the tire? What would Tegan be doing INSIDE the police box? They were only empty sheds. Vanessa didn't know what an old police box was doing here, but they were familiar from younger days and she was not afraid. Where else could Tegan be? She went to the door and found it open. And inside—_

_Inside the box was Death. Vanessa stumbled backwards, snatched up the tire and held it up. She didn't know what the Black Man wanted (she did). She knew he was Death._

_A moment later, Vanessa's doll-like body and the tire lay discarded on the ground, the remnants of a life forever transformed. The architect of this transformation was laughing, as he often did. Life was a joke on other people, and murder was his punch line._

_The Master's new body was full of vigor. Laughing fired bursts of pain-killing hormones into his blood. He could barely remember, before this body, what it meant to be free of pain. He was glutted with energy, he was I high /I on life. How better to enjoy himself than by tormenting the Doctor? It was so easily done, the means easily acquired. There were toys I everywhere. /I_

_He laughed. He laughed. He laughed._

_(o what fools these mortals be!)_

end chapter one


	2. Receiving

2: Receiving

**'The curious mind that seeks adventure and wants to fully grasp profundity and the nature of self as controller will be drawn curiously and inexorably toward the intuited strange attractor vortex.**

**Once the mind starts thinking the thoughts involved in the vortex, the will starts becoming traitorious sic and starts drawing the mind, against the will yet by means of the will, into the center. There are both positive and negative aspects of this labyrinth as a puzzle that you try to solve that ends in your metaphysical death. On the one hand, finding the route that leads into the lair of the Minotaur is joyous successful discovery and solving the great riddle of self as an imposter controller, an imposter governor-sovereign. On the other hand, finding the route that leads into the heart suddenly is revealed as something you maybe don't really want to do after all…'  
**

**- Michael Hoffman from **

The halls spread out before her. The meditative rhythm of her tapping heels was comforting—for a while. Tegan walked. She knew how it was done. One foot at a time, and you would get somewhere. But to get where you wanted, that called for a different mastery. Tegan had never planned to get anywhere. She loved traveling and had hoped that the life of a stewardess would make her happy: city after city, a tumbleweed life. She would never have to depend on anyone to make her happy. Only herself, free; always free to choose her path.

And here—here, there were only paths to choose. Did none of these corridors go anywhere? She tried a door and found only a dusty little bedroom. It looked as if a girl had once lived there, a long time ago. Tegan felt like she was looking into a mausoleum. The meditative calm in her heart faltered. She closed the door and went on.

Her steps lost their rhythm, kept breaking into a run. It was all too strange, too lost, and too remote. It wasn't so much that she was lost in a dream; she was lost in someone else's dream. As fear jolted through her, she jogged a few steps back. The retrace was as deceptive as a hall of mirrors and the next door she opened looked into another hall. Tegan closed the door and leaned heavily against it. What was she doing here? Where were the elves come to lead her dancing under the hill, dancing her shoes to rags? Her feet ached, sure enough, but from the dreary repetition of pointless motion.

Survival training for airplane crashes instructed the crew to stay put and await rescue. Perhaps Aunty Vanessa had been right about waiting for a knight-errant! "Too impatient again. Think, girl!"

This wasn't the way to Narnia. That first room had been technological. Alien technology, surely? (But apparently they had heads human enough to need an ordinary hat stand.) Tegan warmed her heart with the thought of that hat stand. She wanted to meet its owner. She'd either shake his hand or break his neck.

So what did she need? A room. Rooms had purposes. Corridors went to rooms. Tegan started that half-jog again, and her heart sounded a tocsin. Where had the bell gone?

Whether lured or by happenstance, she came upon a kind of courtyard. It was laid out with ivy'd pillars and stone benches. Here and there were planters, and one open space was plain stone tiles under arches that rose into indefinite light.

"This place is unreal." The monastic surroundings kept her voice to church pew levels. What had happened to alien science? This was magical, or at least, mysterious. She sat down on a bench, forlornly clutching her bag. Passport, crew ID card, money, the vital odds and ends of a career girl's life, and they were as much use as the dead ivy leaves swept about the feet of the grey pillars. Less! At least the cluster of leaves hinted that someone came in to sweep up.

A swooping noise ground out of the air. The ivy tendrils stirred in an unaccountable breeze. Before Tegan Jovanka's staring eyes, a British Police Box appeared.

Not Aslan, then.

Isn't that where she'd come in? If she opened the door, would she be looking out on the Barnett bypass? Tegan was inside the box and the box was inside itself. She put her hand out towards the door, then changed her mind and walked past.

Missing the creak of the opening door may well have saved the young Australian's life. Tegan was behind the box when the floor heaved under her feet sending her staggering against its corner. "This is too much," she gasped, and heard the shrill note in her voice. _Nervous nellie_.

Hell's TEETH! Of course she was scared.

The next jolt dropped her to the floor. Anger flooded her. O lovely anger, burning in her veins, crowding out fear and uncertainty. "Crazy idiot of a pilot! Wait until I have a word with him." She slashed a dusting hand over her uniform tunic.

The velvety chuckle that filled the air froze Tegan on all fours.

_Interlude: Minotaur_

_The Master had rematerialized his TARDIS in the cloister as it represented an area of stability in the Doctor's TARDIS. He was highly amused to find a new toy awaiting him—and such a pretty one. He remembered her, having made a memento of her kinswoman for the Doctor to find. Should he make another doll for the Doctor's collection? The Master unlocked the door of his TARDIS and waited for her to peep in. Would she retreat in terror? Was cowardice in her blood?_

_No. She went by. He kept watch on her prowling. She wasn't a threat, but she drew his eyes. Ah, yes, the urges of healthy flesh. Poor Tremas had never been destined to enjoy a happy marriage. Kassia had always loved the Melkur more._

_The Doctor's TARDIS shook. The girl fell; through the open door he could hear her sour complaint. How appropriate was her posture: down on all fours like the hot-blooded little animal she was. It made him laugh._

"Who's that?"

Tegan climbed to her feet. Even someone who laughed like a pantomime villain was an improvement over endless corridors. The police box door was ajar. She put her hand to it and felt herself drawn in. A gloved hand clamped a steely grip around her wrist and she looked up into pale blue eyes.

"You will obey me." Blackness swallowed her mind.

_Interlude: Ego-centric._

_The Source of Traken had marked the Master forever. He could see the animal vitality shining through the flesh of the young woman. He held her mind lightly, considering her whole person. Such a temper she had! One tiny part of her mind, a neuron's worth, held pure rage. If he extinguished that spark, she would die. One thus indomitable yet so fragile was a rare find. Yet she was dim-witted like all of her race. Here she stood before him, dressed in a servitor's livery and thinking she'd chosen a life of freedom._

_He conceived an idea, and put it instantly into action. The Master did not hypnotize his toy beyond merely holding her captive. Hypnosis would leave traces that would spoil his fun if detected. He need merely allow nature to take its course. Circling her, he murmured words leavened with the truth, rooting them in her psyche. "You are trapped. The pilot of this craft has been reckless beyond imagining. How could you ever trust this gad-a-bout? He wears his foolishness proudly yet sulks if he's doubted. You're a strong, independent young woman. Your life is in your own hands. How will you ever get home?"_

_As he spoke, the Master stroked the woman's body lightly with gloved fingertips. He watched with clinical interest how his stimulation fired off cascades of biochemicals. Fear, anger, and arousal: he could smell them on her and see the dilation of her pupils. She would be beautiful, for a human, if she were befittingly adorned instead of being garbed and painted as an inferior. The chemical reactions taking place in her brain provided a fertile environment for the ideas he'd seeded there. All true, all obvious, but he didn't count on a foolish human brain to see the obvious. She needed all his help. "Don't mind me, my dear, I shan't harm a hair on your curly head." He shooed the human out._

_A being such as the Master did not giggle (he did.)_

_"Oh, Doctor, you will rue this day." Of course, he was about to kill the Doctor anyway, but it was still a good joke. He would have to give it a little room to play out._

end chapter two


	3. Returning

3. Returning

**'To encounter this absolutely ego-overpowering bull-man in the labyrinth, coming face to face with it, and yet escape the labyrinth alive and with a sane and coherently ordered mind, the mind must adopt the Mithras godman configuration, which is the only way to preserve the mind's integrity and avoid destructive control-chaos. The mind must identify with Mithras and have the mind of Mithras.**

**'To rely on Mithras as savior is to rely on the transcendent assumptions and mental worldmodel of self, time, and control that are represented by the Mithras figure. The only way to retain mental order during the encounter with the overpowering bull discovered lurking in the self-control subsystem of the mind, is to construct transcendent faith and identify with the higher Mithras identity and rely on that mental pattern as your only hope of escape and preserving mental order.'  
**

**- Michael Hoffman, ibid.**

_I'm not rated for instruments. Flying in fog, no, floating…_ Tegan blinked. It was grey all about her, with something blocky and blue before her. She wasn't flying or floating. She was walking, teetering on her high heels. Her heart was racing and her mouth was dry. She backed away, feeling endangered and not sure where to run. Phantom touches brushed her in unexpected place and she shuddered before realizing they were vines. She swept away the tendrils and wondered if she were imagining that low, sinister laughter. A bead of icy sweat trickled down her ribs and she set her back to the wall. There was no fog, but her surroundings lacked focus.

Tegan crept along the wall. _I feel like a rabbit who knows the hawk is watching. But where is the hawk?_ Stone shifted behind her with a grating sound and adrenaline spurted through her blood.

Something blue. Very important. There… out there. She edged away from the wall.

_don't mind me_

Blue box. Oh, yes! She had gone into the blue box. Of course she had. She was inside it. No use going that way… she had to find the inside of the blue box and go out! Of course. Tegan struck out into the corridors again, following a tiny urging that called her through the fog. This whole business was ridiculous and once she found the responsible party she was going to make his life hell until he got her out of this.

Of course.

She thought she recognized the way, but the next turning brought her face to face with the stony arcade and the blue box. Which _wasn't_ there, because she was inside it.

Of course.

Frustration and fear stewed in her psyche and made tears burn the corners of her eyes. The blue box that wasn't there dematerialized and she took no notice, because, of course, it wasn't there. "Just have to give it one more go," Tegan said aloud to brace herself up. Again she headed into the corridors, afire with determination. She was not the sort who gave up easily.

Voices ahead—finally, the crew! Tegan flung herself at the door dividing her from the first people she'd found on board this weird craft and fetched up in a clatter of heels by the console. Two people were staring at her, a tall curly-haired man in an absurdly long scarf and a dark boy in orange pyjamas.

Tegan Jovanka took a deep breath and anger heated her being from her heels to her topmost curl. "I demand to see whoever's in charge of this ship!" The two strangers exchanged croggled looks and it only whipped up her fury more. She was bewildered and tired and hungry and her feet hurt. How dare _they_ look surprised!

Who _was_ she? Who was _she_?

"Tegan Jovanka! And I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me exactly who YOU are." She turned her gaze from the boy to the man, who was hovering off to the side without looking at her directly.

Infuriating!

"I'm Adric, that's the Doctor," the boy told her. The tall man swept past her without a glance and taking the boy by the arm, drew him aside.

Even in a whisper, the man's voice was resonant. "Who is she? Where did she come from? What are we going to do with her?" He addressed the boy as if she weren't in the room.

_Doctor? THE Doctor? What kind of a name is that?_

Tegan felt like she was going to explode. Ignore _her_, would he? She wasn't going to 'politely' pretend she hadn't heard. She'd _make_ this DOCTOR look her in the eye. "You can take me right back where you found me, Doctor Whoever-you-are!" She saw him visibly wince at her buzz saw tones—she'd had that effect on people before and for once was savagely glad. She'd saw his ears off if that's what it took to get some answers. "My aunt's waiting in a car to take me to the airport." On anger's high horse, Tegan was far above such minor details as flat tires.

_That_ got a reaction. He turned on her, blue eyes wide and popping and his rich voice at full volume. "Your aunt? Woman in a white hat, red sports car?"

Finally, a connection to the real world. "You've seen her?' Tegan felt abruptly weak with relief.

"A little of her," he muttered, turning away. To the boy he said, as though his opinion mattered, "That settles it! She's _got_ to come with us." Then they both walked away from her.

'A little of her'? The phrase stuck in the back of Tegan's mind, but the Doctor left her no time for questions. He turned his back on her _again_. "Settles what? Now wait a minute, Doctor!" She stormed after him, and following through the door stepped out…

( _this is **not** the Barnett Bypass_ )

It wasn't. Her words died even as the Doctor shushed her. Tegan's wide eyes took in her first alien landscape.

"We're all very honored to be here," the Doctor assured the dignified man in black and gold robes.

"Where is here?" Tegan whispered her question to the boy Adric, but the Doctor answered, bending down to her so that his voice came unexpectedly at her ear.

"Logopolis."

_Logopolis, right. Been there a million times, yeah._ The sinking feeling of being out of her depth silenced Tegan. She had become an air hostess to travel to new places, but this was ridiculous. Logopolis.

_Sounds Greek. It certainly isn't Narnia._ How odd that in this odd place the most familiar sights were the Doctor and his blue police box.

_A little of her_. So: the Doctor was the way back to home and Aunt Vanessa. She'd stick to him like glue, see if she didn't! No matter what.

Of course.

(Why no one, not the Logopolitans, not the Doctor, not Adric, and certainly not Tegan Jovanka, noticed a potted shrub appearing out of nowhere and perching in an unlikely spot in plain view, remained an abiding mystery. The only certainty is that the Master had a good laugh about it.

Of course.)

The End


End file.
